


The shed

by bbg17on



Category: Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-13 11:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18940165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbg17on/pseuds/bbg17on
Summary: The original work is cruel summer, it is not mine. This just came to me.





	The shed

**Author's Note:**

> The original work is cruel summer, it is not mine. This just came to me.

I could smell his sweat and imagined how it would taste along the groove of his back.

 

Seeing it come down his neck, small crystallized drop moving down, like a creek moves as it rains. The drops beside it that have not yet joined. My heart racing at the thought of touching it, the warm skin, water, salt. The look in his eyes, Patrice is due any second, yet Elio's lip is still caught between his teeth. The temptation of him standing here in front of me is stronger than it had been in the attic. I had not had the will to reject him twice. His eyes searching mine for what I am thinking. Feeling as if an entire moment has passed with him just standing here. The electric current is still there, in that one drop on his neck, in him. 

Taking the finale step. Closing the distance. Pressing against those lips, the ones that had not given in the attic but were heaven all the same. He had been the bold one last summer, to speak or die. It's my turn. Not aware we have been moving as his body jostles. He's found the wall just off the chair. His vest isn't going to save his back too much. His back might be just as wet as his neck, the dust will be attracted to it. His tongue dueling mine, he remembers the attic as well. Hand on the back of my head, crushing me to him. 

The hand on his neck traveling across him, wet sweat drops, warm body. His breath spiking, my own at the feel of his flesh under my hand. Under his waistband my hand finding him, wrapping around him. His breath catching, breaking the kiss. Semi hard as my hand starts moving. Did he imagine this the night he came up to the attic? My hand. My hand moving slow, my head moving. Lips moving to kiss his neck, my tongue getting to it first. My eyes tight shut, warm, wet and salt. Him inside me. Hearing a breath escape him, my lips touching the skin. 

The smell of him all but burning my lungs. His leg moving around my hip. He wants me closer. Easier access as my hand moves. I had imagined this on the berm, wanting to be good, knowing my body if I gave in. We had known each other for weeks. He had been brave enough to return what I had felt but buried away. One night having the freedom, not only having the freedom to be close but to have him feel the same. Letting myself fully feel it the days following. Experiencing a lifetime of love of what most don't experience in their lifetime. 

To fall in love, tucked away in this piece of heaven with him. He has been angry, rightfully so. What I had hoped to put away once leaving here had let me as much as I tried to push it down. He has been all over the place, trying to make me jealous with Patrice. And flirting with me. Indecision. Not that I've been much better. Engaging in his fights, keeping information from him. But I think this move proves where I stand, where my heart is. He's close. More sweat is coming down off of him. My hand slowing to a stop. 

My hand bracing on the wall beside him. Does he think I would bring him off right here? The look in his eyes and the sound coming from him prove the answer. "I would like nothing more than to finish this." My lips hovering over his, his breathing uneven. "To let you feel that." To see the look on his face, in his eyes when he does and know I'm the one who put it there. "But I can't in good conscience do it. Not while you are with Patrice." What is between him and Patrice is complicated and there is some distance between them. They are still together none the less. My hand leaving him. Paining me to do so. Hearing steps on the grass outside. He breaks up with Patrice, we can talk or pick this up. Moving away, my steps taking me out of the shed, past Patrice. I need some air and somehow will away the affect he had on me, like I did in the attic.


End file.
